Free Temple Hill by Drew Karpyshyn

advantage. “Besides, you yourself said the staff here is discreet. I think you’re just overreacting.”
    Lhasha doubted Corin had any valid responses to her argument, but she never got to find out for sure. At that moment Tebia returned with their drinks, setting them down on the table.
    “Thank you, Tebia,” Lhasha said sincerely. “I can already smell the wine’s bouquet. It’s quite lovely.”
    Corin mumbled a gruff thank you as well. Hardly the type of thing to endear him to the staff, but Lhasha chose to interpret his feeble effort as proof that Corin had assented to her opinions.
    <5>
    The meal was done, and the minstrels were in fine form. Lhasha, from the corner of her eye, was watching several young men who kept glancing over in her direction. They wanted to ask her to dance, she knew, but they were reluctant to approach with the grim-faced warrior perched only a few feet away.
    She could feel the rhythm of the notes in her blood. At first she simply clapped her hands and tapped her feet in time to the music, laughing at the often bawdy lyrics shouted out by the fun loving, slightly inebriated crowd in the room, but the call of the music could not be denied for long.
    “C’mon, Corin,” she said on a sudden impulse, leaping up from her chair and seizing her companion by the wrist. “Come dance with me.”
    The warrior remained in his chair, oblivious to the tiny half-elfs efforts to pull him from his seat. “I’m on duty,” he said flatly.
    Lhasha stopped tugging on his arm, realizing from his tone that he wasn’t simply being coy. Usually when a man told her he didn’t want to dance, he really meant, “Ask again and I’ll come.” But Corin obviously wasn’t interested in the playful games she was familiar with.
    “Fine,” she said. “Sit here like a lump. But don’t expect me to keep you company.”
    Flashing her best smile, she made her way across the room to the eager crowd of potential partners. Leading one of the lucky young men out onto the floor, the half-elf cast a glance over her shoulder at Corin. The warrior had risen from his seat and was standing beside the table. His good hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. His eyes were burning, but Lhasha noted with some disappointment that they weren’t burning with jealousy.
    He was angry, she realized. Not because she was dancing with someone else, but simply because she was mingling with a crowd of strangers—all of whom were potential assassins in Corin’s paranoid eyes. She sensed her bodyguard was uncertain whether to follow her onto the floor, or simply maintain a discreet vigil over her from his post near the table. She had put him in an awkward position, and he resented it.
    Lhasha couldn’t have cared less. Not while the music played with such wild abandon.
    Lhasha danced for hours, only returning to the table to refresh herself with more wine. Corin never spoke during these brief interludes, he barely paid her any attention at all. But while she was spinning out on the dance floor, she felt his eyes constantly scanning the crowd around her, endlessly searching for an enemy that wasn’t there. Fortunately, none of the other patrons seemed aware of his piercing gaze.
    It was near midnight when the minstrels finally stopped to take a break, eliciting loud cheers and applause as they promised to return shortly. Laughing, Lhasha excused herself from her current partner, promising to add his name to the long list of repeat candidates once the musicians resumed their infectious strumming.
    Alone, she came over and sat at the table. Corin hesitated, then took bis own seat.
    “A lot of good dancers here tonight,” she said, not expecting a response. She didn’t get one. “You can tell a lot about a man by the way he dances,” she said absently, still trying to get a rise out of Corin. “A few of them are more than a little appealing.”
    “Don’t worry,” she added after a long pause, “I’ll be careful not to